All You Need are Friends
by Soruchi
Summary: Scipio is kidnapped and injured, Prosper and Riccio find him. Maybe Scipio just needs friends. Mild violence, slight implied Scipio/Prosper.


Scipio could feel rough bonds around his ankles and wrists. His throat was dry and he could feel a crust of blood forming above his right eyebrow.

"He's wakin' up. Get the phone, Pedro." Scipio shifted, waking bruises and various other aches and pains around his body.

"Hey, brat. We're holdin' you ransom, got it? We're gonna make your big rich daddy pay big bucks for you, squirt!" The man – kidnapper ?- was big, wide shoulders and muscles bulging with brawn but with tiny, mean, brown eyes and a mouth that could have been made from steel.

A voice wafted in from a nearby room "Hello, Doctor. We have your son. If you want him back, you're gonna have to do _exactly_ as I say. There's a letter outside your door right now. It has all our hurry, Doc. Master Scipio ain't too happy," with a low chuckle, the man hung up. He strolled into the room where Scipio was lying on the floor.

"He'll do as we say, won't he? He'll have to, right Sergio? He's gotta want his son back, right?" The man, Pedro, looked to the larger kidnapper with eager eyes.

"Yeah. He will. Our lil' rich kid'll be wantin' to go home soon anyway, Pedro. We won't be waitin' long." He leaned down to Scipio, who looked up blearily. "Whaddaya think, brat? You wanna go home to your mommy and daddy? Say somethin', pipsqueak. I don't got all day.

Scipio swallowed. "What am I here for? Let me go. I'm –" He broke off. His throat was hurting like hell and he suddenly felt lightheaded.

"Don't you worry your rich lil' head, Master Scipio. You're gonna be goin' home tonight. Just stay quiet an' I won't get mad, 'kay?" The man shuffled off, leaving Scipio on his own in the dark. The room was cold and smelt of damp. Scipio tried to shift to a more comfortable poisition but it was pointless. After a few minutes, his vision began to swim and he slipped away into the darkness.

- -

When Scipio woke, he was being pulled roughly along a narrow corridor. His feet were no longer tied up, but he could still feel fibres biting into the skin on his wrists. Pedro and Sergio were dragging him up some stairs. When they reached the top, Pedro opened a small wooden door and looked around.

"Coast is clear, Serg. Reckon we can go now."

The small group hurried outside, Scipio stumbling over uneven cobblestones. It was late at night and raining heavily. They didn't meet anyone else as they slipped through twisting alleys. Eventually, Sergio stopped.

"This is it, Pedro. There a briefcase here? Small and brown with a broken buckle?" The men dumped a confused Scipio by a wall, certain that he wouldn't try to escape.

" 'Snothing here, Serg. Reckon they stood us up."

Sergio growled. "I need that fuckin' money, Pedro. And the brat's daddy ain't givin'. Let's leave him another message. A physical one this time, eh?" The two men turned to face Scipio, faces menacing, fists bunched at their sides. They attacked viciously, kicking and punching until Scipio slipped to the ground. Only when warm blood was running freely down his face, and he was soaked to the skin in muddy rainwater did they relent, laughing and slapping each other on the back before disappearing into the dark alleys of Venice.

Scipio gingerly touched his face. His fingers came back covered in blood. His right arm was dislocated and at least two ribs had to be broken. The cold was biting, and the rain served only to make him more aware of his thirst. He tried to open his mouth to get some water but his face was tight with couldn't feel anything below his waist – probably just as well. Lacking the energy to pull himself up and stagger home, he let his aching head fall back against the cobbles and slipped into unconsciousness.

- -

"Prosper! Get back here! You'll never find Scipio in this weather, you'll catch your death! Riccio, get back into this house, young man!" Victor chased the two boys until he could run no longer, right into the underbelly of the ancient city.

"Maybe if we follow the canal... Everyone crosses the canal at some point, Prop!" Riccio panted as he tried to keep up with Prosper's longer stride. Prosper stayed silent, leading the way along one of the smaller canals. Eventually they stumbled across a small courtyard, bathed in an eerie silver glow from the moonlight.

"Just... hang on for... a minute..." Riccio was out of breath. He bent over, hands on his knees and closed his eyes. "I tell you, if Scip's just run off for a bit, I'll kill him when we get back! Keeping me up all night following you around the side alleys..." He continued to mumble under his breath as Prosper paced.

Suddenly, Prosper noticed a hand poking out from underneath a long black coat. The hand had scratch marks on it. Prosper slipped over and bent down. He pulled the fabric of the coat away from the person's face and yelped with surprise. Scipio had angry red scratch marks all over his face and bruises were beginning to form on his pale skin.

"Riccio! It's Scip! He's here, c'mon and help me!"

Riccio knelt down beside Scipio. "Scipio!" He pulled him over to get a better look. "Ouch. That looks... bad, I'll go get Victor and Ida!" He ran back the way they had come, Prosper could hear his footsteps echoing away into the distance.

Prosper felt helpless. Scipio was out cold, injuries covering him. He was shivering too. Prosper took his jacket off and covered his friend with it. Scipio coughed, a long wracking cough that seemed to go on forever. None to soon, he heard the others coming.

"Scip! Prosper! Are you – oh my goodness." Ida covered Scipio's shivering form with a blanket and hugged Prosper close. "Don't worry. We'll get this sorted out. He'll be fine, I promise."Victor picked Scipio up in his arms and, being as gentle as possible, led the way back towards Ida's townhouse.

- -

Hornet, Bo and Mosca were waiting impatiently by the door. They had made a bed for Scipio in the sitting room, but Victor carried the wet, cold and bloody teenager up to Ida's room. He set him on the bed and everybody crowded around. He looked so vulnerable and ill, with red scratches streaking his face and chest. Victor had pulled Scipio's ragged shirt off him to prevent him form getting hypothermia or something.

"Out. Everybody out," Ida ordered. "Bo, get me a bowl of warm water and some antiseptic. Hornet, gauze. Mosca, a clean shirt. Victor, help me with his arm. It's probably a ggod thing he's knocked out for this bit."

- -

Once they had delivered everything Ida had asked for, Prosper, Bo, Mosco, Riccio and Hornet sat down at the kitchen table. Prosper told them how they'd found Scipio, with Riccio reminding him of anything he forgot. After the story had been told, they sat in silence. Bo climbed onto his big brother's lap. "He'll be okay, right Prop? He's not going to die or anything, is he?" Bo looked up at Prosper.

"He's not going to die, Bo. He's just... not going to be very well, I guess," Hornet stroked Bo's tangled hair, "We'll all be okay."

Half an hour or so later, Ida and Victor reappeared. Bo was asleep, with Mosca, Hornet and Prosper not far behind. Only Riccio was really awake.

"Well? What –" Riccio jumped up, knocking over a glass ofwater.

"Ssh. He's still unconscious. Probably won't wake up for a while, it looked like a pretty nasty bump on the head. I'll put Bo to bed, you can all go up and visit, if you want. Quietly though." Ida took Bo from Prosper and headed up to the attic-room.

The older four, along with Victor, trooped up to Ida's room on the second floor. They slipped in quietly, as if Scipio would shatter into pieces if they made any noise. He looked like a porcelain doll, but with large purple bruises decorating his face. One arm was above the cover and it had what looked like thumb-prints encircling the elbow. He was wearing one of Victor's loose shirts, but the shapes of bandages were fairly easy to spot underneath the light fabric.

"Time for bed now, you've all had a long day. Don't worry, Ida's going to sleep in here tonight on a campbed in case something happens. You need to sleep too, you know. No point in poor old Scipio waking up and you all looking like zombies." Victor ushered them through the door without complaint. Hornet was nearly asleep on her feet, while Riccio and Mosca were shuffling mindlessly up to their room. Prosper too look exhausted and fell asleep almost immediatly after checking on Bo.

- -

During the night, Ida woke to the sound of Scipio tossing and turning. He was running a fever, and instead of being pearly white, his face was flushed with sat beside him for over a hour, murmuring soothing words of comfort. For a while, Scipio muttered in his sleep and Ida could hear snatches of sentances that seemed completely unrelated.

"I'm not... Tuesday... Lessons are over... Uncle... You... Never..." Eventually, the fever died down a little, and Scipio fell into a more peaceful sleep. Ida brushed his hair away from his face and lightly kissed his forehead, just as a mother does to her sleeping child.

- -

The following morning, Ida woke up to see Bo cuddled beside Scipio on the bed. 'Sweet child,' she thought. Scipio still had a high temperature, but that would wear itself out. The bruises were still stark on his face, and also on his arms.

Someone knocked gently on the door and Prosper stuck his head in. "I thought he'd be here," he said, indicating Bo. "How was last night?"

"He had a raging fever for a few hours, but that seems to a calmed down a little. The only thin I'm worried about are his ribs. I thin three arembroken, but we'll have to take him to hospital to check it out. Not today though," she added hastily, seeing Prosper's expression.

"Mmph." A faint noise from the bed caught their attention. Scipio was squirming slightly, waking Bo. Scipio coughed, the same hacking cough that shook his whole body. His eyes slit open a little, squinting at the pale morning light.

"Scip? You awake?" Bo prodded the teenager.

"Bo, stop that. He's not feeling too good right now. Remember when you fell off your bike?It's kind of like that. Now shh." Ida bent over Scipio, sheilding his from the light.

"Feel like 've been run over by a tractor," Scipio murmured.

"Scip! You are okay! I knew you'd be! Scip? Scipio? Hey, say something!" Scipio had closed his eyes again and his breathing became a little deeper.

"It's okay, Bo, he's just wiped out. It's pretty tiring, being sick." Ida pulled Bo over and hugged him tight.

"But he's not sick," Bo protested, "He feels like he's been run over by a tractor. That's what he said. It's different." He wriggled free and skipped out the door, "He's going to be ok-ay!"

Ida checked Scipio's temperature again. "Still a little warm though. But I'm reasonably sure he'll patch up just fine."

Prosper paused to lok at the Thief Lord. Not nearly as intimidating-looking as usual, but Scipio still managed to look... like he belonged in some fairy-tale or something. As a prince, maybe. Or a thief.


End file.
